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As a member of the LGBTQIA – and all the other orishirishi (all sorts of) letters – community, if you are out even to a few people, you’ll be asked these two questions: When did you turn gay? And how did you turn gay? It also comes in other forms like: what and who turned you? These are like the most annoying questions in the world, but when Titilope with the bouncy breasts asked me, it seemed like a completely reasonable question.

It was a warm day, a gentle breeze was blowing. Not the kind of breeze that can lift up your skirt, no. It was the one that can put you to sleep. It was the second day of the term and I felt good, great even. I was finally in SS2, left with only one year to get out of secondary school into the university. How awesome was life?

“Ife, help me take this student to my office. I’ll be behind you,” Mr. Gnirob said with a smile.

I smiled back. I knew the literature teacher would not get to his office in the next hour; the poor junior boy I was tasked to take to his office would wait and die. As we climbed the stairs toward the office, I had juniors and set mates and seniors greeting me. If you were going to judge me by a teen movie, I would be one of the top alpha dogs that everyone loves, but abeg who get time for that?

I headed back down, walking and singing in my head as I crossed from the administrative building to the hall building. As I walked, I thought of how the year could go, how I could make some cash and whether it was true that they caught Bolaji giving Dubem head in the staff restroom. I was musing on whether Dubem’s soldier was really big or not when I strolled past the open doors of the hall.

Then I stopped. I had seen something or someone with the corner of my eye. I paused and moon-walked back to the front of the hall – well, in my head, it was a moon walk.

Looking through the door into the hall, I saw her standing there. She looked absolutely phenomenal in her overly long skirt that needed to be cut with immediate effect and her baggy school shirt. The school tailor must’ve really hated her. She had long legs, elegant in the manner she stood. Her nose was made with the blood of an aristocrat and her mouth was perfect.

I had made all these deductions in my head without knowing that I was admiring a girl. Fourteen years old at the time, and I was stunned by how lovely she looked in her horrid school uniform. She stood in the center of the hall alone and I could tell that she had a strength that didn’t make her lonely when she was alone.

I was going to start moving toward her when my brain cried out: “Stop! What do you think you are doing?” It was a desperate command, like my brain knew something I didn’t.

“Why are you a fool like this? Don’t go towards her. Can’t you feel it?” came the plaintive reply.

Truly, I could feel it. I felt the spirits speaking to me, and in that moment I knew. I knew that if I went towards her, if I spoke to her, my life would change. Forever.

As I stood in front of the door, staring at her, the seconds were like an eternity as my heart struggled to convince my brain to free my body to walk to this beauty. My brain scoffed at my heart, argued that it was doing it a favour, because she would break it, do irrevocable damage to it. My brain was going to win the battle when the lovely lady looked up at me. She stared right at me with an expression that said ‘Why is this one looking at me like she has fever?’

And in that moment, my body ignored my brain and heart and moved to her, as though propelled by a magnetic field the two idiots couldn’t control.

“Hi, you don’t look familiar. You must be new here. I’m Ife, Ife Pervy.”

My charm, as you know, is constantly on, but I had increased the volume just for her. I smirked my ‘Look at me, I’m Awesome but humble about it’ smile. She raised one beautiful eyebrow at me, showing her disapproval, and instantly, a real smile blossomed on my face. This time, she smiled back.

She slipped her hand into mine, and I swear, goose bumps broke out all over my body and mosquitoes flew around in my belly. It felt like the stars were aligning as a small electric shock went through my body. I think she felt it because she didn’t shake my hand; she simply let me hold hers. Distantly, I could hear my brain whisper to my heart, “You just signed your death sentence. You’re going to regret this moment.”

The lovely girl’s voice was strong with a hint of an Italian accent as she responded, “I transferred schools. I’m Diana, Diana Akeme.”

And in that moment, I realized that all my life, I had been lost, spinning around in circles. That day was the day I found my feet and my turning point.

Well, that’s all for now, folks! I promise you will be seeing more of Diana, so much so you’ll be sick of her.

Written by iAmNotAPerv

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About shakespeareanwalter

Walt Shakes(@Walt_Shakes) is an award-winning Nigerian writer, poet and veteran blogger. He is a lover of the written word. the faint whiff of nature, the flashing vista of movies, the warmth of companionship and the happy sound of laughter.

About Us

The images of one's mind are like snapshots of a camera. As such, this blog is like my album, a place where I store and show the pictures worth keeping. This is my take on the word through my lens and into the aperture of my mind, imprinted on the film of my mind. I wash the negatives and put out my mind snaps. :-)